


See Who I Am

by LipsOfFrost



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, Din Djarin still doesn't know what's going on, Everyone's a BAMF, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Mutual Pining, Politics, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-12 11:06:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29259429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LipsOfFrost/pseuds/LipsOfFrost
Summary: No one answered the kid's call on the magical stone, so Din took Grogu as his own. With the Darksaber stuck at his hip, he reluctantly accepted the responsibilities that came with his new title. Surrounded by politics he didn't understand and Republicans breathing down his neck, Din meets the man he was no longer looking for.What's this about a union?
Relationships: Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker
Comments: 84
Kudos: 483





	1. Listen close

**Author's Note:**

> I really shouldn't be writing a new fic, but here it is. I couldn't not, after that season ending. I've always wanted to write a royalty AU, so Din becoming the king of an entire planet was like a gift presented on a silver platter.
> 
> Two disclaimers: My Star Wars lore knowledge is limited at best. Also, Sporadic Updates is my second name.
> 
> This is being written for fun during my breaks in the hospital as a way to escape. Hopefully, I avoid the angst for once, but if it slips through... my apologies. Nonetheless, enjoy!

_Hanna City, Chandrila_

"Please remove your weapons. They are not permitted within these rooms."

"No."

"Excuse me?" their escort stuttered, turning red.

He'd long since given up on arguing.

Safe to say, Din was disappointed, but he wasn't surprised. It would have been courteous if the governments begging for his alliance had at least glanced at Mandalorian culture. However, that clearly wasn't the case. Din knew what he was getting into. These people didn't care about his kind; Mandalorians were ghosts to them, another conquest. It didn't help that their history had been erased. Even if they had wanted to learn, Din doubted they'd get very far.

The basics weren't hard.

Din clenched his jaw, repeating the same line he had to use several times since arriving on this planet, "Weapons are part of our religion."

He walked past him, ignoring the affronted gasp, and made his way into the counsel room, Cara and Paz silent behind him.

The doors hissed opened.

When Din entered, eyes latched onto him like a moth to a flame, their gazes following his movements with a scrutiny he returned under the privacy of his helmet. He wasn't a stranger to their curiosity. Mandalorians were rare – Din tried not to think about _why_ – and beskar was even rarer. He was dressed to survive.

With Cara and Paz at his sides, Din knew they looked severely out of place. But they were soldiers, and these politicians were not. They were soft... colourful. Robes in reds, blues, purples, glitter and silk, with fine metals adorning their fingers. Some held value in such glitz and glamour, but Din couldn't care less. It was a powerplay; this entire meeting would be.

He hated politics.

But this was his life now. He was Mand'alor, had been for quite some time. Yet, rather than growing used to it, he only despised his new life more and more. Din yearned for those years before, with the child in his arms and nothing but the freedom of space in front of him.

The title of Mand'alor was not a responsibility he asked for, nor was it one he wanted. Leadership was never his area of expertise, not outside of battle. Even then, he worked better alone. The title was undesired, but it was a task given to him – not in words, but by duty – and he would see it completed.

There were necessary steps. There was Mandalore. There were the people. There was the sword at his hip.

The kid started to jostle. Looked like he was waking up. Din didn't doubt they knew about him – perhaps even knew the kid never left his side – but Din didn't want to bring attention to him if he could help it. He dared not think about how _much_ they knew. It wouldn't surprise him if that was why he was here – because they wanted to get their hands on the kid, not some forsaken planet that had only begun to bud.

They had spent long, arduous months reclaiming the planet. In that time, he had come across more Mandalorians than he had in the past several years. And there were many of them. Hidden, but not gone. Despite each encounter resulting in a sore night of bumps and bruises, a small part of him was pleased to see their numbers were strong. The prospect of a returned Mandalore seemed less dim.

"It's okay, kid," he whispered. Din gently patted the satchel in comfort, shrugging his cape over it to hide him from view.

The room was large, spacious, and full of windows, yet it still seemed to suffocate him.

There were three chairs empty. He figured that was for them. They were late, but Din had a track record.

Cara and Paz trailed behind him as he took his seat. Din couldn't relax even if he wanted to. Unlike Cara, who sat next to him, her arms crossed in front of her as she leaned against the table like it was her own desk.

Din had all but begged for her to join him. He didn't understand politics, didn't want to, but she'd always been interested. Not involved, sure, but interested. Both of their people had been nearly wiped out, and her response had always been to fight. The same couldn't be said for him. Din wanted to be left alone, leave all this behind, and take Grogu somewhere where they wouldn't be found.

Paz opted to stand a few feet behind him, snubbing the offered seat like it was covered with poison. Din could feel how tense he was from where he was sitting. With so few remaining members of the Tribe left, and the covert destroyed, they no longer remained in hiding. Loyal to a fault, Paz had insisted on coming, if not for genuine protection, then for intimidation. The Mandalorians may be infamous for the skills in battle, but they were lacking in numbers, and the rest of the galaxy _knew_ it.

And a table like this? They would try to tear apart their planet like a pack of hungry Corellian hounds.

Only one person's stare wasn't making his skin crawl, and it belonged to a slender woman in plain, white robes. There was something otherworldly about her, and not only in the literal sense. She looked important.

He leaned over to Cara, asking quietly, "Who's she?"

Cara looked at him incredulously, "Uh, only the _senator_."

"...Right."

"So," the Senator cleared her throat, "Now that everyone's here, let's begin."

A hush fell over the room as she continued, "I'm Senator Organa. I want to welcome our fellow guests who have travelled far to arrive here. Everyone, please feel free to introduce yourselves."

They went around in a circle. Din really tried to pay attention, caught a few names, but the kid was fidgeting again. He was probably hungry. Din reached down, slipping a finger into his bag. A partially gloved hand wasn't the most appetizing thing in the world, but at least it was something to chew on. For a kid with baby teeth, he could sure bite.

Din nearly forgot where he was, up until an uncomfortable, dragging silence seemed to fill the room.

His skin prickled. Din focused on his breathing.

He wasn't one for introductions, and he had every intention of staying quiet, but Cara showed leadership, "I'm Cara Dune, Marshal of Nevarro. This is Mand'alor, the honorable and true King of Mandalore."

"Mand'alor isn't a name," someone in green sniped.

Paz behind him tensed, his temper audible, "He is Mand'alor."

"And who might you be?" they countered.

"Alright, alright, settle down," Senator Organa called out, "Show some respect. The people of Mandalore carry different customs."

"But – "

"No buts," she turned to Din, "I apologize on their behalf for anyone's lack of manners. Thank you for coming all this way, Mand'alor. Let's not waste anymore of your time."

Din nodded. Better to just get it over with, "You wanted to discuss a union?"

"Straight to business. I like you," the Senator set her hands on the table, "The Republic's still a shitstorm, but we have a lot to offer."

"I know that," Din tried not to wince when the kid bit too hard, and he tried to pull his hand away, "I need to know _why_."

"Why we want a union?" she clarified, eyebrow raised. She'd glanced down, and Din had a feeling she knew. At least she wasn't saying anything.

"Why you want to help us."

She grew silent at this, considering him. She finally said, "Because you need help."

There was no mockery in her tone. She simply stated the facts. Din couldn't be offended. She was right. Mandalore was alive, but it was struggling; it would take generations before it became what it once was. The Republic could provide resources, protection, and respect that they didn't have right then.

But that still wasn't an answer.

"What's in it for you?"

"The regrowth of a planet lost to wars that did not belong to them. A chance to give people a place they can call home, the hope for families to feel safe," she glanced at Cara with an unreadable expression on her face.

Cara was clenching her fists.

The look in their eyes spoke volumes.

Din suddenly understood. Cara's Tear and rumours of a Senator having to watch her home planet destroyed.

"You might not believe me, and that's fine," Organa started, but Din cut her off before she could continue.

"I believe you," he said firmly. But there was more to it than that. He gestured to the rest of the council, "But what's in it for them?"

There were a few gasps of outrage, but Din ignored them all. He wasn't here for anyone's bantha shit. He'd lost his home more than once – more than twice – to their games, and he wasn't risking it again.

Din had seen how two-faced and manipulative people could be. He'd been employed by the ugliest, most vile minds sitting in positions of power. They'd hire to kill off the innocent if it meant they could stay in their seats.

If the Senator was upset by his comment, she didn't show it. With a flick of her wrist, she commented, "Well? Go on. Tell him what you want."

The one in the green was seething at the mouth, "This Mandolare is – "

" _Mand'alor_ ," Paz snarled. Din didn't doubt the man was one comment away from drawing a weapon.

Din flicked up a hand.

The man deflated, and Din promised himself he'd buy him a drink later for his patience.

"I want an honest deal," Din reminded the group, "We keep our words by Creed. You know that. I can't trust the same from you."

A different member proved to be a voice of reason, "That is understandable. All you're asking for is honesty; I don't see why we can't give it. Hmm, alright. The way I see it, your people are warriors. And you're good at what you do."

"Our people," Din corrected, "Are individuals. If they choose to fight for you – or against you – that is their decision to make."

Senator Organa spoke, "If we did unite, we could arrange for your planet to remain as a neutral party unless otherwise specified. You won't have any obligations to participate in our fights. Our agreements could run by a term-by-term basis. You help us, we help you. That way everyone's happy. No armies necessary."

Din mulled over it, "That... would be fine. No wars."

"What about trade?" a council member added, "From my understanding, Mandalore is in ruins. "

" _Was_ in ruins," Cara narrowed her eyes.

Din knew her long enough to know when she was flexing her arms on purpose. If this was some bar spat, he'd have found this situation funnier.

When did this become about him trying to convince them to ally? He thought this was about them trying to convince him. Word play – they were good at it.

Uncomfortable, he added, "We've rebuilt. We have ore. Weapons. Ships."

"Beskar?"

"No. It's too dangerous to be mining in the open fields."

"What else?" a member sounded intrigued, curiosity lacing her tone.

"Soldiers."

They looked confused, "You said you wouldn't give us soldiers."

"I said I wouldn't give you armies," Din leaned back in his chair, "But we were raised to fight. It's in our blood. You won't find better mercenaries anywhere else."

"Hm," there were nods of approval, "We'll discuss this in more detail."

Senator Organa finally spoke, "We can give you protection against the Empire. God knows I don't need any other reason to kick their asses."

Din smirked, "Fair enough."

There was a time when he thought their planet was cursed. He couldn't believe how far they've come. Din took it one city at a time. It was a slow and steady process, but he was happy with the progress. There was a delicate peace in their neutrality, but Din wasn't naïve enough to expect this to last. Sooner or later, once Mandalore began to flourish, people would see its value. Civil war would break out between clans as they always did. Others would invade with every intention of taking over the planet. Imperials would try again. The Republic too, if he wasn't careful.

"Mand'alor, do you think a union is something we can proceed with?" the senator suddenly said.

"It might be," Din admitted, "But we don't have a deal until we narrow down the specifics."

"Excellent. I'll start preparing an agreement, and you can review it, make any changes, and we'll keep up with these discussions until everyone's happy. Sound good?"

He nodded. There was a collection of agreements going around the room.

"Great. Then, meeting adjourned."

That went a lot better than he expected. Din rose to his feet once the majority of the council members exited the building.

Senator Organa suddenly spoke before he could leave, "Mand'alor?"

He stopped, tilting his head.

"Thank you for coming. I mean it," her eyes were sincere.

He nodded, "Thanks for your time."

As they exited, Cara smirked, "You sure you needed me? You handled yourself pretty well in there."

Din would have walked out during that shit ice breaker and gone right into hyperdrive back home if Cara and Paz weren't with him. Judging by the amusement in her eyes, she was well aware. He couldn't wait to get back to his ship.

"I don't like this," Paz said.

He agreed, "I don't either."

It was a lot to unpack. 

They stopped at a break in the halls. Cara tilted her head to the left wing, "They've got free drinks. You two coming?"

Paz turned to Din. He could tell the man was desperate for one, and Din wasn't going to stop him. He shook his head, "Not me. You guys go."

"Suit yourself," she shrugged. They wandered off down the halls.

Din had every intention of returning to the privacy of his ship and spending some time with the womp rat. He reflexively went to scratch behind the kid's ear, but his hand met empty space.

Din's heart leapt to his throat.

He frantically patted himself down, searching his person for any sign of a green lump.

There was none.

" _Dank farrik!"_ he breathed, "Not _again_ ,"

Din took a right, going in the opposite direction that Cara and Paz had, hoping he'd cover more ground if they didn't spot the child on their way.

He stormed down the hall in a panic and turned a corner, only to stop short.

There was a figure in black standing in his way. Din couldn't make out who it was, their back turned to him. He'd remember someone with that hair. His cloak was the darkest attire Din had seen anyone wear on this planet, a harsh clash with the light colours of the walls, with boots that looked ridiculously expensive.

The man was also holding his child.

Din's hand was hovering over his spear, union be damned, but Grogu suddenly let out a babble, "Gaffffps!"

Grogu was laughing.

He was bubbling in pure, utter joy. And – Din took a painful moment to analyze the situation – the stranger wasn't holding him like he was a threat. He held him almost... lovingly.

Din heard the stranger speak to the kid, his voice soft and angelic, _"Where are your parents, little one?"_

The way he said it, the words he said – Din's chest felt tight.

_"Not to worry, we'll find him."_

Grogu was grabbing at the man's hair. It had unsurprisingly caught the kid's attention, being such a unique shade of gold.

Din was betting on five seconds.

The stranger was still speaking to the kid in that same gentle, soothing tone, _"You look like – well. Never mind. That's a long story."_

Din let his hand drop to the side, silently stepping closer.

It took Grogu exactly five seconds.

He only sighed when the kid put the hair in his mouth, making himself known, "Kid, that's not food."

Din nearly startled when the man startled. If Din had thought his hair was pretty, then the man's eyes told a story of their own. _Kriff's hells._

"Oh!" the man blinked, "Sorry, I – I... didn't notice you?"

For all of his kind words earlier, Din didn't miss how he tucked Grogu safely behind him, nor how his other hand slipped underneath his cloak. The movements would have been subtle if Din were anyone else.

It was a nice gesture. What wasn't so nice was how Din's instincts kicked in, how his own hand flew to his own blaster. There was something vibrant in the air, taut and ready to snap. Despite the man's relaxed outward appearance, Din didn't doubt this man could hold his ground.

Whoever he was, he was dangerous.

And he was trying to protect the kid from _him_.

"That was a question," Din commented lightly, watching Grogu watch the stranger.

"No – it's just, you're very quiet. Especially for a man your size. I'm impressed," he replied, easing again. He poked Grogu's nose, "And this little guy stole my attention."

It didn't answer his own questions, but Din hadn't exactly asked one. Din suspected this man wasn't used to people sneaking up on him. If that wasn't food for thought.

Din didn't get a chance to ponder over it as the stranger was speaking to Grogu, "Is this him?"

"Brr!" Grogu's ears twitched. He was still chewing on the man's hair.

The stranger didn't seem concerned that his hair was now the kid's next meal. He was suddenly smiling, "Your son is wonderful. Sorry, here. Take him before I keep him. I warn you, I'm quite tempted."

He didn't need to be asked twice. Din grabbed his kid, instantly feeling relief when he had him back in his arms. But his heart wouldn't seem to settle.

Din recalled the man's earlier words too, "You can understand him?"

"In some ways," he said mysteriously. He added, "Actually, can I talk to you? It's important."

"We're talking now."

"I meant somewhere more private. This is about your son."

Din didn't think he could get used to hearing that word. His son. Grogu was his son. Din nodded vaguely and was momentarily blinded when the stranger grinned.

"My name is Luke, by the way."

 _Luke_.

Din didn't give his own. Instead, he offered, "My ship."

He turned on his heel and made his way, Luke following him after a moment of hesitance. He didn't trust these rooms. And if this stranger knew _anything_ about Grogu, then Din would hear about it.


	2. Dealt the cards

_Hanna City, Chandrila_

Luke pulled up his hood and followed the Mandalorian through the halls, eyes lingering on his back.

This Mandalorian sure looked impressive. Tall and wide, armed to the teeth, and armor gleaming in spite of his dark figure. But that wasn't what had caught Luke's eye. It was the sheer rawness of the emotions tumbling out of him, waves and waves relentlessly crashing over them without any sign of stopping. Protection, affection, worry, and _love –_ with a fierceness that nearly shook Luke right off his feet – all for the bundle of joy with ears too big for his head. And Grogu returned it in kind.

Luke had spent ages scouting the galaxy far and wide for even a trace of another Force user. It seemed almost impossible that what he was looking for would find him, tripping over his feet in the too-bright halls of Hanna City. But Luke had stopped believing in the impossible a long time ago.

They received plenty of stares as they made their way through the hangar. For once, it wasn't because of Luke. The Mandalorian certainly was a striking figure. If Luke didn't know any better, he'd think that his armor was custom made of pure beskar. Obtaining even a single ingot was a difficult task, but enough to fill a full suit? And finding someone capable of forging it? Rare... but not impossible.

Or perhaps it was the way he carried himself? He walked like nothing could hurt him – no, that wasn't quite right. Luke glanced at his hip. The Mandalorian walked like _everything_ could hurt him.

Either way, it was probably best if they weren't spotted together. Luke pulled at his hood tighter, making sure his face was well hidden. News travelled fast around here.

They approached a downright gorgeous ship with dark plates and heavy cannons and – was that the latest RR3380 engine? Class Four landing gear? Luke's mouth was practically watering. It couldn't be, could it? Luke had never seen her in this hangar before. He couldn't wait to see its cockpit; this ship was an absolute work of art.

The closer they got, the more Luke gawked. A modern set of stabilators, ports that could only mean refurbished scanners, the astronomical payload...

Only, the Mandalorian didn't stop; he kept walking past the ship, black cape fluttering behind him.

Oh, shucks. It wasn't this one.

Luke reluctantly followed, pausing only to give the ship one last longing look.

When the Mandalorian did stop, Luke took in the sight before him.

"Is this your ship?" he asked, voice not betraying his thoughts.

"Yes."

Luke eyes the battered wings, the burnt engine, the peeling plates, and the cracked windows. At least... at least, it was pre-Republic. Untraceable. Unnoticed. It served its own purpose. But from the looks of things, it wouldn't last much longer. It didn't look safe to fly. Could it even enter hyperdrive?

"This is a pile of trash."

Kark, that was blunt. He didn't mean for it to come out like that.

It was too late to take it back now. The Mandalorian's head snapped to him, and the stare Luke received was so piercing that he could feel it through the darkness of his helmet. It was like a saber was being brushed against his skin – blistering, intense, precise. Yet, there were conflicting emotions emanating from the man. Luke had been expecting offence if not outrage. There was none of that. Confusion maybe, disbelief.

"Sorry, that came out rudely," he apologized, "I didn't mean – "

"You're right."

Guilt ate at him. Luke insisted, "I really am sorry."

"No," the Mandalorian said, "You're right. It's garbage."

Now, Luke was left speechless. Most pilots held attachments to their ships, scrap metal or not. This Mandalorian didn't seem to carry the same sentiment. There was a sense of loss about him, and Luke vaguely wondered why that could be. 

"You're the first to say it to my face," the Mandalorian sounded surprised.

Luke couldn't help but throw an edge of a smirk, "Maybe not to your face, Mandalorian."

He only huffed out, "Fair enough."

"I've worked on a lot of ships before. It's something I enjoy," Luke tried to explain, "This isn't the worst I've seen, but I'm surprised it's still functioning. Rust like that can't be polished off. It – it hurts to see a ship with so much potential not being cared for. It doesn't give me the right to insult you."

"I don't – ," the Mandalorian cut himself off, going silent.

"It's alright," Luke smiled, "You don't need to explain."

Inside the ship was clean, at least. It couldn't have been comfortable. It didn't look lived in. However, it gave them the privacy that they needed, and that was good enough for him. Luke pulled down his hood now that they weren't under scrutiny.

The Mandalorian led them to the cockpit, gesturing for him to sit down in the pilot's chair. He lifted Grogu, setting the child down in a smaller seat that Luke instantly knew was installed just for him. His chest fluttered at the thought, and he couldn't help but smile. It was becoming clearer and clearer how much the Mandalorian cared for his child. This made the upcoming conversation even more crucial. Luke would do his best to see these two safe and happy.

"You wanted to talk?" the Mandalorian said. He didn't sit down, instead choosing to lean against the doorway with his arms crossed.

"Yes," Luke replied, "It concerns the safety of your child."

There was a stretch of silence as he appeared to be deep in thought. Finally, he asked, "Are you a Jedi?"

The Mandalorian proved to be full of surprises.

At the risk of sounding arrogant, Luke almost didn't believe that this man didn't know. Luke's lightsaber was hidden under his cloak, yet most recognized him on face alone, if not by name. It was refreshing to be unknown. But if the Mandalorian didn't recognize him, Luke had to wonder.

"What makes you think so?" he asked carefully, holding his hand up to his chest.

"There was only one other person who could speak to him," he tilted his head towards Grogu before his helmet focused back on Luke, "She was one. A _Jetii_."

"Was?" Luke repeated, hope crawling up and down his spine. If there was another, Luke wouldn’t – he wouldn't be alone. But if she was gone, then there was nothing to be done.

"Ahsoka Tano. She's alive. But she'd severed her ties."

Luke exhaled.

So, it was true then.

Perhaps he was alone, but he wasn't lonely; he had Leia and Han, Artoo, and more friends than he could count. Yet, they were drifting. The Force was dividing them, his mission even more so. Some struggled to understand, and the rest put him on a pedestal. The HoloNet called him a karking _god._ There were some nights when Luke no longer thought himself human, like a pariah, the whispers in the back of his head reminding him of the chasm between the Jedi and the rest.

Seeing Grogu, feeling Grogu for the first time, he nearly burst into tears.

Luke hadn't felt such a strong connection in so long. He wasn't alone anymore. Even if he never saw Grogu again, knowing there was another like him out there, it soothed the open wound in his chest.

Luke gave the Mandalorian some closure, breathing out, "I _am_ a Jedi. I might be the last."

The Mandalorian grew silent at his admission. Luke didn't know much about his culture, but he had learned enough about their histories to know that the Mandalorians had a rocky relationship with the Jedi Order, for good reason. This man didn't seem to care, or at least, he was willing to put any animosities aside if it'd assure Grogu's safety.

"What did she tell you?" Luke asked.

"His name. That he has powers. Carries a force. That he couldn't be trained."

"Did she say why?"

"He's too attached," there was an edge to his voice. One that Luke instantly recognized, "To me."

"The Jedi Order demanded no attachments. Love was seen as a weakness. It was easy for love to turn into fear, anger, jealousy. Hatred could flourish. Attachments offered a direct bridge to the Dark side," Luke explained, reciting old texts.

"He's going to join the dark side?" his voice pitched.

The Mandalorian's worry was palpable. Luke could taste it on his tongue. Force, he was bad at this. Master Yoda had rubbed off on him with all his riddles.

Luke hastily amended, "Nothing is certain. But with guidance, he can learn to understand himself better."

"You're not taking him from me."

"Of course not," Luke frowned at the thought, eyes alight like burning flame, "I would not separate a son from his father."

The Mandalorian's arms dropped to his sides, "But I thought..."

"That we rip apart children from their families?" Luke finished his sentence, "We did, in the old ways. But I want to start a new Order, one where attachment is encouraged. I've seen how powerful love can be. I don't think it's a weakness. Not at all."

"So..." he cleared his throat, "He can be trained?"

Luke looked to Grogu, "Only if he wants to."

Grogu's ears perked up, excitement and worry echoing through the Force.

The Mandalorian picked up on Grogu's conflict as well, "I think he needs time."

"Of course. Take all the time you need," Luke didn't mention that he suspected the father needed it just as much, if not more.

They exchanged codes, the Mandalorian with a promise to reach out when they came to a decision, and Luke with an acceptance of either outcome.

"I should get going," Luke winced, "I'm late. My sister won't be happy."

The Mandalorian nodded, but Luke didn't think he was paying much attention. The man stepped out of the way so Luke could pass.

Before he did, Luke crouched down so he was eye-level with Grogu, "It was a pleasure to meet you, Grogu."

Grogu sent him a barrage of emotions, images, giggling. Luke was enamoured. He rose to his feet, pulling up his hood, "You as well, Mandalorian. May the Force be with you."


	3. No one has to know

_Hanna City, Chandrila_

"You're late! Four days, Luke! I was about to send a team after you! You should have called!" Leia paused, taking in his expression, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," he denied, bouncing on his heels, "Sorry, I lost track of time. I thought I finally found... Sorry, what was I – oh, right, I thought I finally found something in the temples, but it was only a dead end. The traps must have interfered with my comms. – Sorry."

Leia studied at him, eyeing him up and down like a vulture inspecting its prey. Luke shriveled under the scrutiny. Force or no Force, Leia could read people like a book. It didn't help that they were twins. She had this uncanny ability to see right through him and pick him apart.

So, he wasn't at all surprised when she crossed her arms, and with a delicate brow raised, asked, "Alright then, what's _right_?"

Right? Plenty of things were right. So right that Luke was still feeling butterflies. He hadn't felt this excited since he left Tatooine. But Grogu wasn't his story to tell, at least not before Luke discussed it with his father. He supposed he could explain to Leia without sharing the specifics, "I found another Force user. Or more accurately – he found me."

A flash of recognition crossed her eyes, "The Child."

"I was on my way here when he – ," Luke cut himself off, "Wait. You – you know?"

"Oh, don't give me that look. I only felt him an hour ago. The kid's Force signature was strong," she added, "Shame I didn't get a chance to see him. His father was understandably protective."

"You met _him_ too?"

"Mhmm," she hummed vaguely, taking a seat at her desk. Luke waited for her to explain, to offer a little more, but she remained tight-lipped.

Eager, Luke caved, "So? What did you think? Of the father?"

"He was nice. Fair."

"He was very kind, wasn't he? Caring. I'd never met anyone so – so – ..." Luke trailed off, smiling to himself.

He thought of the jumble of memories Grogu had shared with him. The Mandalorian rescuing him from evil, heroic and brave, willing to sacrifice his life to keep Grogu safe. His dad feeding him his favourite foods, cakes, frogs, and fruit, but not letting him eat those eggs he'd wanted because of reasons that Grogu didn't understand. Grogu's dad clutching him to his chest and humming until Grogu couldn't keep his eyes open anymore, filled with feelings of _safe_ and _happy_ and _home_.

She squinted, "You're turning red."

"I'm not!"

"Luke," Leia grabbed his face, and Luke's eyes met hers, "You have feelings for him."

Oh. _Oh._

He stammered, "I don't – I'm not – "

"You didn't find him attractive?" Leia asked, letting go, "I find that hard to believe. I _do_ have eyes. Those shoulders weren't all armor."

Luke had always been quick to catch feelings. Romance was something Luke barely had much experience in, given the absolute lack of suitable partners on that dust ball planet, and then his following years dedicated to the Jedi's teachings. But he'd always dreamed. Luke knew what he liked. Though, nothing ever came from his fleeting attractions anyways. Luke tended to pack up and leave before any of his relationships could become more than a night of distraction.

His sister was more manipulative than everyone gave her credit for. But she was right. He did have nice shoulders. Only, Luke didn't tell her that it was more so the Mandalorian's heart that had caught his eye. She'd give him that look, that _oh, no_ look that was reserved for only Han.

"Okay, yes. He's attractive," Luke bit his lip, lying to himself, "But it's only a harmless crush. I'm sure it'll pass."

"There! That wasn't so hard!" Leia said, "There are worse people in the galaxy to fall for. The king of Mandalore isn't a bad start."

Luke was about to respond when his brain caught up with his ears, "Sorry, I think I misheard you. Did you say the _king_ of _Mandalore_?"

That Mandalorian was a king?

And Luke had –

Oh, _Kriff._

"Huh? You mean you didn't know?" her brows raised, "I thought I mentioned that I'd be meeting with Mandalore's leader today."

"But... I saw another Mandalorian today on my way here. I thought that was him," Luke explained weakly, "He had a guard with him."

And now that he was hearing his thoughts out loud, he realized how clueless he sounded. Of course, that Mandalorian in the party hall wasn't their leader. That one had stood tall and proud, confident, but the Force around him had been unstable, violent. That was a soldier, through and true. In fact, now that Luke was thinking back on it, he was following the woman as though he was _her_ protection.

If Luke hadn't been so distracted, he would have realized that everything about Grogu's father all but screamed the truth. He was calm, quiet. Luke had sensed an undercurrent of something lethal under his stillness. The Mandalorian was a seasoned warrior, but more than that, he wanted the best for his son.

A man like that, who had seemed so tired and sick of fighting, who wanted peace, who demanded the safety of his family – that was a man who could lead and lead well.

But of course, Luke had to make an utter fool of himself. This is what he deserved for making assumptions.

Leia seemed lost in thought, and as if they were already a couple, murmured to herself, "A Jedi and a Mandalorian. Never thought I'd see the day."

"You don't understand," Luke said, throwing his face into his hands, "I threatened to kidnap his child – as a joke! ...Oh, but then I accidentally threatened to kidnap his child for real, hadn't I? I insinuated that his child would turn evil! _Sith hells_ , I insulted his ship."

Leia only looked at him. Stared long and hard. From their brief training sessions, Luke had noticed that she took hold of the mental aspects much more readily than he ever could. Leia would have been a great Jedi, if she'd chosen such a path. And her walls were up – they always were.

"Say something," Luke demanded.

"I," she decided, "Need a drink."

She went for just that, reaching underneath her desk and pouring herself a glass. Once upon a time, Luke had been shocked to learn how readily available she had her alcohol, but he'd long since grown used to seeing a bottle appear out of thin air. Luke rarely joined in nowadays. Alcohol never eased his troubles, and Luke wasn't fond of being in lack of control of his own mind.

Leia took her version of a sip, which was downing the entire glass in one go. It must have burned, yet her expression remained stoic – ever the politician.

She finally sighed, "I'm surprised you still have your head."

Luke remembered the sheer fury and panic rolling off the Mandalorian when Luke first saw him. He winced, "Ah. Me too."

"How did he take it?"

"It?"

Leia waved her hands, gesturing up and down, "You."

The Mandalorian wasn't happy when he mistook Luke for a threat to Grogu, but otherwise, he didn't seem to hate him. Luke couldn't take back what he said earlier, and if he was honest, he would have probably acted just the same. Luke liked to treat everyone as if they were his friends, at least until they gave him a reason not to. Grogu was a sight for sore eyes, and Luke couldn't see himself – or anyone – being able to say no when Grogu had asked to be held. However, if Luke had known, he'd have cut back on the teasing. Leia's negotiations with potential allies were a delicate matter, and Luke didn't want to act as another obstacle to the New Republic. She was working incredibly hard, and Luke was well aware that trouble followed him wherever he went. It wouldn't be fair to ruin _another_ treaty.

But the Mandalorian had taken his poor excuses for jokes in stride, all things considered.

Luke thought about it some more, attempting to be objective, "He didn't seem too upset. It wasn't at all like that fiasco with Senator Fatil."

Sure, Luke was setting the bar low when it came to these sorts of things, but Leia couldn't possibly expect him to be eloquent when it came to politics. It wasn't a game of dejarik, which even Han was better at than Luke. The Jedi were meant to de-escalate situations, but Luke found that he escalated them more often than not.

"Don't remind me," she rubbed her forehead, "If you believe this, then there's nothing to worry about. I'm sure you charmed his pants off."

Luke was adamantly not thinking about that, "But what if I ruined your negotiations? I'd feel awful."

"It's okay, Luke. I'm sure he's got more to worry about then you judging his ride."

"You should have seen it, Leia. I almost cried when I laid eyes on it."

She scoffed, reaching out and touching his arm, "What about his child? Will you train him?"

"Maybe," Luke ran his good hand through his hair, "We spoke about it, about what it means. They haven't decided yet."

"Then he's probably thinking about the kid now. You gave him an important decision to make."

He also had a planet to run. If it was anything like Leia's job, it couldn't be easy. Luke might have only stressed him out more. When he had a chance, he promised himself he'd research Mandalore to the best of his abilities. If the Mandalorian was expected to set aside his beliefs and trust the Jedi – trust _Luke_ – then it was Luke's responsibility to do the same. It would make the process easier, should they agree to see him. Less misunderstandings, better communication. Something that the old Jedi Order severely lacked in, Luke thought.

He sighed, "You're right."

"When aren't I?"

"Humble too."

Leia grinned, and Luke matched it.

"I have to go again," Luke sighed, "I'm sorry. I know you wanted me to stay longer this time."

"What'd you find?"

"A beacon of some sorts. It's affiliated with the spice rings," Luke smiled, "You'll be pleased to know that I get to kick some more Hutt-butt – if my sources are correct."

"That's not very Jedi of you," Leia admonished, but Luke could feel her pleased satisfaction running through the Force.

"I'll be gone for a few weeks. Tatooine."

"Back to that rock?"

"Yes," Luke let the memories wash over him, "I'm both dreading it and terribly excited."

"And you think there's an artifact there?"

"I still don't know exactly where I'm headed, so I'll need to do more recon," Luke may have pouted. He hated gathering intel. It took ages. Not wanting to think about it too deeply, he asked, "How is Han?"

Leia groaned, "He's giving me migraines."

"Ah. So, he's fine, then."

She scoffed, "I'll tell him you dropped by."

He rose to his feet, hugging her deeply, "Thank you, Leia."

"May the Force be with you," she said fiercely, "Be careful, Luke."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is actually so much fun to write, and I'm having such a good time. Hope you guys are too!  
> Also, I confused myself with the next few chapters, and I need to fix up a few things so there might be a delay.  
> ALSO, I hope to make chapters longer soon. Short chapters drive me wild but it is what it is LOL


	4. Which way

_Sundari, Mandalore_

Din had left Chandrila as soon as he could.

Until the Senator had the beginnings of an agreement ready, Din had no intentions of ever returning. Villages, towns, bases – all that he could handle. But cities? Cities with buildings that towered deep into the clouds, air traffic that took out the reach and appeal of flying, the words hidden by the shadows cast under hierarchies he couldn't see – that, he could live without. Din had heard that the capital here once resembled Hanna City, but having been reduced to rubble, it was hard to see it.

Underneath the dome, Sundari was an uncanny yet accomplished clash of the old and the new. There was still a lot of work to be done, but it was free of the Empire, free of strife, and it was theirs.

"You seem troubled," Cara had smirked when they regrouped, "Want to talk about it?"

Din hadn't been able to tear his eyes off the kid, and when he said the words out loud, there was a sense finality to it that hadn't been there before, "We found a Jedi."

She'd uncrossed her arms, the smile falling off her face, "What are you going to do?"

"I don't know."

He didn't then, and he didn't now.

Cara had departed back to Navarro to see to her duties there, and Din was now dropping off Paz on Mandalore to return to the Tribe.

Paz noticed him returning back to the ship, tilting his chin, "You will not stay?"

Din ignored the weight of guilt that fell on his shoulders. He couldn't help it. Though he was given a bed here, Mandalore was not his home. The Mand'alor had given others a safe place to return to, a place to settle down and start families. For now and as a people, they were too exhausted for disagreements between clans. Bo-Katan had been right; they were stronger together. But Din had spent far too long on the move to appreciate the quiet life.

"I've got business on Tatooine," he eventually said.

Din could catch up with Fett, see what he thought about the Republic. An outside eye was a good idea. And maybe Peli could take a look at his ship, if Fett didn't have any extra parts laying around on the old Hutt grounds.

The _Jetii_ had brought up old wounds. Yet, he was right. Din had been treating the new ship like a forgotten wound. He'd bandaged it up just enough to work, but it was time he cleaned it up properly. If Din wanted to heal, he'd have to put the effort in and stop being so hung up over the Crest. It was long gone. Din had to accept that. No amount of pouting would bring it back.

And the new ship _did_ have a lot of potential. Its shell needed to replaced without doubt, but the parts that mattered were unparalleled. An upgrade or two – ... Din stared at the ship. Several upgrades and then some, and the ship could even run better than the Razor Crest. It wouldn't be home, but it could be a fresh start.

The ship needed a name too. It was bad luck to fly a ship without one, but he wasn't quite there yet. Din had no ideas. None that felt right.

He powered up the ship, giving Grogu a moment to get comfy before he took off. The engine sputtered, the ship whined, and something definitely cracked, but they were up and flying soon enough.

Din had scoured the galaxy left and right looking for those Jedi. Ahsoka Tano had been the closest he could get. She said she wasn't one, not anymore, and that finding another would be unlikely. With a haunted look in her eyes, she said that Grogu could not be trained.

It took Gideon kidnapping Grogu before Din realized what that meant. His task had been to return the child to his kind or be his father until he came of age. Grogu's call on the magic stone didn't reach any ears, like Tano had predicted. With no hope of another Jedi, the word still spoken on his tongue like a myth, he'd welcomed Grogu into his arms. Nothing had changed between them, not really. But now Din no longer saw him as someone else's. Grogu was his son, and they were a clan of two.

But then the Jedi – Luke – had showed up out of no where.

Din didn't know what to think, to feel. Of course, the Jedi showed up when Din wasn't looking for him anymore. And of course, _this_ Jedi wanted to train Grogu.

It was what Din and Grogu had wanted.

Before.

At first glance, the man had appeared to be just that, a man. There had been an otherworldly air about him, a sense of confidence that should not belong in such a small frame, but that didn't mean he was a figure of the legends. Din wouldn't have believed him to be a Jedi if it wasn't for the clear connection between him and Grogu. And just like Tano, Luke had spoken to his son – learned his name – in ways Din never would.

Din swallowed down the jealousy.

Grogu finally found someone who could understand him. Who was like him. Din wouldn't take that away from Grogu, even if it hurt.

But if Luke's words were truthful, he hadn't wanted to rip them apart, not like the Jedi of the past. Luke was different. Din had heard the stories – of children being ripped apart from their families, never to see their homes again. He'd seen it in Tano, who spoke of the dangers of attachment. Din had molded hearsay into a biased truth out of his own fear. Or perhaps it was true, and the Jedi _had_ separated children from their families. The very thought made him sick.

But Luke was different. Din had to believe that.

"Brr!"

Din turned around, checking in on the kid. He looked happy. Excited. It wasn't hard to figure out why.

"What do you think, kid?" Din asked.

Grogu cooed, reaching for a switch.

"That's not a toy," Din patted his hand away, grabbing him and setting him on his lap, "Do you want to be a Jedi?"

He only looked up at him, eyes big and wide, ears twitching. Din knew that look. It was the same one he got when Din had a hidden snack in his bag and the kid knew about it. _I want it_.

His chest squeezed.

"This is a big decision."

Din didn't trust the Jedi. But maybe he could trust Luke. Grogu did.

"You'll get to learn how to use your powers," Din explained, "But we won't see each other. Not as much as right now."

Grogu playfully patted his arms, babbling softly.

Luke had said they could stay together. But Din had his own responsibilities. He was Mand'alor. That meant meetings and whatnot. And they needed some sort of income. Jobs. King or not, Din was intent on _not_ letting the power get to his head. He'd seen what the saber did, what any sort of position of power could do to even the most humble. Din didn't understand the appeal, and he never wanted to. Keeping himself busy was one way to go about it – not that he had to try very hard. Reawakening a dead planet wasn't exactly relaxing.

It was likely the same for Luke. He probably had... Jedi things to do. But maybe Luke would stay with them if he asked nicely. Din could give them what they needed. Training grounds, food and shelter, whatever it was. They could work something out. Din could visit – or vice versa. Whatever Grogu needed, wanted.

Din couldn't be selfish, especially not when Grogu's safety was concerned. It was only a matter of time before his powers did more harm than good. He needed to be trained.

"Okay, kid, I guess this is happening."

He set up his comms, plugging in the Jedi's contact information with shaking fingers. Seeing as he didn't trust himself to speak, Din sent out a heavily encrypted message in text.

> _Hey. Is this Luke?_

He sent it before he could change his mind. There. Done.

Grogu was staring at him, Din could see it in the corner of his eye, but he didn't check to see what sort of look the kid was giving him. He didn't want to know.

"We're fine. This is for the best," he said out loud.

Din had pulled his attention away from the comms, but to his surprise, the response was immediate. He glanced back at it.

_[Received] Who is this?_

The comms were secure, though one could never be too cautious. Yet—Grogu was pawing at the screen, a sense of reverie in his eyes, and something about the gesture told him that this was, in fact, Luke. He kept his reply ambiguous just in case.

_[Sent] The kid's decided. He wants to be trained._

The next reply took longer than the first. Din busied himself with feeding Grogu dried meat when the next ping took his attention.

_[Received] I wasn't expecting an answer so soon. Are you certain?_

_[Sent] Yes._

_[Received] Alright. If either of you change your mind at any point, please don't feel pressured to continue. This is a big step for all of us, I'm sure. However, I'm currently tied up at the moment – quite literally – but we can discuss our plan from here on out soon enough. Do you have any preferences for when or where you would like to meet?_

Din re-read the long response. _Tied up_? What sort of danger was the Jedi getting himself into?

" _Pffhh,"_ Grogu gave him an unimpressed look. Not for the first time, Din wondered if Grogu could read his mind. It made sense now, what with his powers and all.

"You're right, kid," Din apologized, "Sorry. I'm a hypocrite. Woah – what are you – ?"

He grabbed his small frame and tucked him in close to his chest.

Din huffed out a laugh when he read the text.

 _[Sent]_ _argahaurahe iu bbkajbbbblkdddddddddddddd_

_[Sent] Sorry, that was the kid. I think he was trying to say hi._

_[Sent] Do you need help?_

Din had heard about the Jedi's strength in battle, and he'd seen Tano's abilities himself. But Luke was still a stranger to him, and though he gave off an impressive air, Din had never seen him fight. And Din wasn't keen on leaving Grogu alone with the Jedi until the man proved himself capable. Din would rather not send Grogu into unnecessary danger. But losing the Jedi before the kid even had a chance to learn wasn't favourable either.

 _[Received]_ _Tell your son I said hi as well. How is he?_

Din's heart leapt to his throat as he read the comm, gaze tracing over the word. His son. His _son_. The back of his eyes began to sting. At some point the kid had become his kid. His _ad_. Kark, he wasn't ever going to get used to it. Din didn't get a chance to remember to breathe, a second message accompanied the last in quick succession.

 _[Received]_ _Thank you for the offer. It's greatly appreciated, but I should be okay. I'm exactly where I want to be._

 _[Received]_ _Sorry, I have to go. My droid's handling the voice-to-text, in case you were worried. Otherwise, our communications are secure. Before I go, is there anywhere you would like to meet?_

What in the blazing hell did Luke mean by _that_? Din knew that wasn't what Luke had implied, but he couldn't stop the image from conjuring up in his head. It was an entirely inappropriate thought, especially with a kid who could possibly read minds in his arms, so Din hastily replied.

 _[Sent]_ _I'm headed for Tatooine._

Din never got a response, which was probably for the best.

He ran a finger along his son's ear, blatantly ignoring how unsteady he felt, "You see that, buddy? The Jedi says hi."

"Ouu!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chap will also be delayed yikes


End file.
